


Bardic Bakery Blunders

by Meadowlarkwrites



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bakery AU, Fantasy AU, Gift for @canadiatuxedo on tumblr, M/M, Medieval AU, Prumano Secret Valentine, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, rated T only for Romano's cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadowlarkwrites/pseuds/Meadowlarkwrites
Summary: Gilbert is a travelling bard stuck in the small town of Lumin with no cash for a place to stay or even food to eat. Luckily the cute baker seems to have an eye for him...Gift for @canadiatuxedo on tumblr for the Prumano Secret Valentine event! Prompts were Bakery AU and Fantasy AU
Relationships: Prussia/South Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Bardic Bakery Blunders

The world is a vast place, and Gilbert had travelled the whole thing round three times before he stumbled on a town named Lumin. It was nestled in tall mountains, and so small it hardly deserved a name. Normally it wasn’t the sort of place Gilbert would stop at, but one does grow tired of large fantastical cities eventually, and so he decided to try his luck somewhere more…  _ quaint _ .

(This was his excuse, anyways. What actually happened was that Gilbert ran out of money halfway to the great city of Aveni and the carriage he hitched a ride on had unceremoniously dropped him in the middle of nowhere and driven off without looking back. Gilbert was stuck there until he earned enough money to grab another ride, but who knew how long that would take in a town that relied more on trade than money)

A small town, Gilbert thought, was the perfect place to start his fortune. So he had set forth with nothing but the clothes on his back and his flute, eager to entertain the town with his beautiful voice, stories, and musical skill.

Now he sat on a fountain in the town square, exhausted from a day of playing his heart out. His poor flute seemed just as tired, sitting quietly on the stone beside him. In his cap he’d only received a few copper, not even enough to rent a room, let alone buy himself a ticket out.

As Gilbert began to reason a back-up plan, his nose picked up a smell drifting on the breeze. Rossinia has one main street with the town square, the church(which doubled as town hall), a small inn, and a small number of shops. Gilbert gathered his things and stood, following the scent to the bakery. He counted his coins. Four copper. Enough for a roll, at least. Maybe a sausage if he was lucky.

Gilbert pushed open the door to the bakery and was immediately greeted by the warm scent of baked goods. He hadn’t realised how chilly it was getting outside until he was surrounded but hot ovens and warm rolls. His mouth watered. He went to the counter to order and-

“ _ Fuck off, we’re closed! _ ” Came a cry from the back. Gilbert leaned around the counter and saw the back of a young brunet working the oven. He had a large iron rod and was poking at the coals. He leaned over to add more and Gilbert’s mouth watered for a different reason.

“Um, I just need something small?” Gilbert looked around for a menu with prices, but there wasn’t one to be found. Of course not, because that would make sense. 

The man in the back room cursed again, threw the door to the coals shut, and wiped his hands on his apron before stomping out to the front. He looked about ready to tear Gilbert a new one when he paused and gave him a once over. Gilbert stood up a little straighter and pushed his silver hair back self-consciously, and gave the man an eye himself.

He was short, even compared to Gilbert, which didn’t happen often, and seemed only a few years younger. He had dark curly hair and tanned skin, and the brownest eyes Gilbert thinks he’s ever seen(and he’s seen a lot of eyes). His lips and eyebrows seemed permanently pulled downwards, but with his pudgy cheeks it was the opposite of intimidating. He wore a green short-sleeved tunic and an apron, both of which were covered in flour and served the added bonus of showing off his (very nice) arms. Really, he was pretty cute.

“You’re not from around here,” the man said with a scowl.

“Eh, yeah, I’m just dropping by. Travelling bard, yaknow how it is,” Gilbert hefted his flute as evidence. The stranger’s scowl didn’t let up.

“What kind of dumbass comes to a town like this for money? You’d be better off in Aveni or something.”

“Oh, this is just a stop. Consider yourselves blessed to get to hear my amazing playing,” Gilbert winked and leaned on the counter.

The man calmly pulled a rag from the pocket of his apron. “Hair and eyes like yours don’t seem like a fucking blessing.” He whipped Gilbert’s arm off the counter with the rag. “And nobody wants to hear your shit music.”

Okay, ouch. Both the rag and the comment. Gilbert jingled his cap. “I’ll have you know I earned four coppers today, thank you very much. My music is awesome.”

His cap was snatched from his hands before Gilbert could react, and the man poked through the change before handing it back with an eyeroll. “Yeah, you can get about jack and, let me check, shit for that. I might have a stale bread roll in the back for that much.”

Now Gilbert’s easy air fell. That was a high price, though he supposed it made sense considering how far they were from any actual people. “That’s… it?” He poked through the coins again. “I can work for a bit more or something. I’m not very strong, but I’m smart. I’m Gilbert, by the way.” He stuck out a palm as a way of calming the stranger’s (frankly unwarranted) dislike of him. 

“Tch,” the man batted Gilbert’s hand away. “Don’t care.” He stretched and looked around the room. “I guess I can give you a fresh one…” he started.

“Oh! Awesome!” Gilbert grabbed the man’s hand anyways, shaking it vigorously. “That’s really nice of you, yknow I’ve had a pretty tough week and it’s good to know there’s nice people even in a weird town like…” and on he went. 

The man looked taken aback, too stunned by Gilbert’s sudden change in demeanor to comprehend any of his babbling, let alone retrieve his hand. “Oi!” He finally snapped, cutting Gilbert off mid-tangent. “I’m not your damn friend, capiche? I’m just giving you extra because you look like a fucking ghost and it makes me feel bad. I mean shit, when was the last time you ate?”

Good question. Gilbert had snacked plenty on stolen goods from his ride’s bag, but it had been a while since he’d gotten a proper meal. He shrugged. The man threw his arms up. “You see! I hate people like you, wandering from town to town and expecting people to take care of your dumb ass because you can’t take care of yourself. You’re lucky you’re cute, for fuck’s sake! Even with the weird eye thing, I mean seriously what the hell is up with that? It’s fucking weird. And-”

It was Gilbert’s turn to cut him off. “You think I’m cute?” he asked, feeling his ears start to go red.

There was a pause before the man was shaking his head, clearly flustered. “No, I didn’t mean- I barely even know you! That’s a weird thing to say to a complete fucking stranger! What the fuck, Lovino?”

There was practically steam coming out of Gilbert’s ears as he attempted to parse what just happened. He’d been hit on before, sure, but never by anyone this pretty, and never so outright. The red eyes usually threw off anyone who actually found him hot, and even without them Gilbert wouldn’t consider himself ‘conventionally attractive’, whatever that meant. The only thing his mind managed to pick up on was “Lovino? Is that your name?” 

Lovino was working his fingers through his hair and looked up at that. “Yes?” he squeaked. “I mean! No! Fuck you!” He grabbed the nearest baked good, a warm pretzel covered in butter, and shoved it at Gilbert. “It’s free! Fuck off!” He said and pushed Gilbert towards the door.

Gilbert was still tasting the name  _ Lovino _ on his tongue and went on instinct. He ended up outside, pretzel in hand, wondering what the hell just happened. Turning, he could see Lovino ( _ Lovino _ , he thought again) hurriedly closing the place up. It was bright inside the bakery. The light spilled through the windows and into the quickly-darkening street. Gilbert looked up to see the last bits of sun dip behind a mountain.

By the time he turned again, the bakery was dark, and the door to the back room was closed. There was still bread on the shelves and flour on the floor, but apparently Lovino had decided that was enough and the day was done. A chill blew down main street, and Gilbert stuffed the warm pretzel into his mouth. Maybe he could find a stable to sleep in… Or even better, a barn.

The next day found Gilbert again in the main square, cap on the stone before him and flute pressed lightly to his lips. Today he caught the children headed home from a day of school, and they were eager to gather round and listen to his stories. Being children, they only had two copper between them, but they more than made up for it with sweets, shiny rocks, and marbles. This brought Gilbert up to six coppers and enough sweets to make a meal(anything adults say about ‘vegetables’ and ‘health’ is a lie).

Even while doing his bit, Gilbert only needed to glance up to be able to see the bakery across the street, and Lovino inside, very pointedly ignoring him. The butcher, the cobbler, and even the bishop were kind enough to step out and listen to Gilbert’s tunes, but Lovino kept his back to the windows whenever possible. It was cute, Gilbert thought. The more he watched the man, the more he felt a tightness in his chest.

Six copper… Hardly enough for a carriage, but a perfect place to start saving. Gilbert chewed on his lip as he counted out his day’s earnings. The sun would set soon, and most people had gone home or were in the process of closing up their shops. Surely he could spare a few coin, right?

Gilbert went into the bakery.

Immediately he was greeted by a snort, and “You again? I told you I don’t do handouts! And also to fuck off!”

Gilbert grinned and deposited his earnings on the counter. “No handouts, today. Turns out your town actually enjoys my awesome music.”

Lovino poked at the copper like it was a venomous spider. “You didn’t steal it?” That was actually rather insulting. Gilbert’s eyebrows knit together. “Of course not! I was out by the fountain all day. If you’d bothered to look up, you’d have seen me.”

There wasn't a response, instead Lovino stared at Gilbert. Or right behind him, it wasn’t clear. Gilbert looked about and back to Lovino. He had such deep brown eyes, Gilbert could write songs about them. "You have hay in your fucking hair," he said, in a voice that was absolutely melodi-

"Eh?" Gilbert raised a hand to pat at his hair. "Where?"

"It's right- no, you're missing it. Just, shit, let me-" Lovino leaned across the counter, his dark fingers combing through Gilbert's hair, and Gilbert forgot to breathe. Lovino pulled back with a large clump of straw, and the two looked at it for a moment.

"Huh," said Gilbert. "I dunno how I missed that."

"Haybrain," Lovino scowled, and turned to toss the straw in a wastebasket. "How the hell did you get that much hay in your hair anyways? Sleep in a fucking haystack?"

"Uh, yeah, actually." Not far outside of town, Gilbert had found a nice barn to sleep in. It was small, and brown, and missing a door, but it still had a good haypile, and not too many bugs, so he counted as a win. "I've slept in worse places though, no big deal."

The coins made a scraping sound as they were pushed across the counter to him. "So you're a hobo," Lovino said and began packing a bag full of rolls. "How much shit have you eaten since that pretzel?"

Gilbert's ears turned red again. "I prefer  _ awesome travelling bard _ , but yeah, sure,  _ hobo _ . And I'll have you know," he turned up his nose, making light of the situation, "that I recieved a fortune's worth of candy from the schoolchildren today, and it has fed me quite well."

"A haybrain hobo who steals from kids, sure." A smile twitched at the corner of Lovino's lips if Gilbert squinted just right. The baker closed the bag and handed it over. It was still warm from the oven. "I don't do handouts. You owe me." Gilbert began to go on his grovelling spiel when Lovino held up a finger to stop him. "Nope. I'm serious. Go play your dumb songs until I'm closed, then I've got a place for you to stay until you fuck off to Aveni or wherever. But you work for your keep, capische?" Before Gilbert could respond, Lovino pressed his finger forward and into Gilbert's lips. " _ Capische _ ?"

Gilbert nodded. Lovino pulled away, satisfied. "Okay, then help me clean this shit up. Nobody gets a proper dinner or sleep until this place closes, and it's gonna take a while since  _ somebody _ fucked me over last night. So stop fucking distracting me with your pretty, stupid face."

"My what?" Gilbert managed to ask.

"Your pretty fucking stupid face. Here." A broom handle was shoved into Gilbert's hands and he was directed into the back room to sweep the hearth. In the time it took him to clean the ashes, Lovino had put up all the unsold items, washed all the dishes, wiped down the counters, and shut the blinds and locked the door.

Gilbert wiped a sooty arm across his face and smiled. "Anything else, Lord Lovino?"

Lovino frowned at him. "How in the fuck did you manage to get that covered in soot?"

"I've never had to clean a fireplace," Gilbert shrugged. Lovino groaned.

"Fine, I might have a shirt or something that would fit you."

The only thing left to do was blow out the candles. Lovino made him resweep the shop front anyways before he deemed the bakery clean enough to close, and put out the lights. He led Gilbert upstairs to a small living quarter. There was a fireplace with herbs strung to dry above it, a small shelf lined with jars, a trunk, and a table with one chair, but Gilbert's eyes were drawn to the bed. The only bed. The small only bed. Now his whole face was red.

Despite Gilbert's best efforts, Lovino caught this, and his eyes widened in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't- I didn't even think about that," he blustered through a series of surprisngly curse-void apologies while digging through the trunk. "Just, here," and he threw a tunic at Gilbert's head.

Gilbert caught it easily. It was a plain red linen tunic, and seemed only a bit too big. He looked at Lovino. "Aren't you going to turn around?" A squeak of shame and Lovino turned his back. Gilbert slipped off his sooty clothes with a promise of "I'll wash them tomorrow," and put on the tunic. "Okay, you're good."

Lovino looked back and froze, bottom lip between his teeth. Gilbert pulled one of the sleeves up from where it had slipped off his shoulder self consciously. "Is there still hay in my hair?"

"Nope!" Lovino said, far too quickly. "I mean. No. You look great. I mean fine. I mean you look like shit. I'm going to bed." He swiveled on his heel and went back to the trunk, procuring a pile of furs, probably saved for cold winter months. "The floor should be fine enough, at least better than a hay stack, for fucks sake. Figure yourself out." With that, Lovino threw himself into the bed and turned his back to Gilbert.

"This'll be fine, thanks," Gilbert began, but it was clear Lovino was ignoring him. Eh. He put his flute and his cap on the ground and spread out the furs, then laid down. He wasn't used to sleeping this early, so instead he studied the eaves of the ceiling above him. He rolled over, stared at the back of Lovino's brunet head.

Lovino was an interesting person. Gilbert had met lots of interesting people in his travels, but none quite like this. People were generally either kind or not, but Gilbert had never met someone kind enough to open their home to a complete stranger, who then pretended to hate everyone and everything. He didn't understand. He wanted to understand. It was weird.

"Lovi?" He asked the back of Lovino's head. Silence. Then:

"The fuck did you just call me?"

"Why do you live alone?"

Another pause, this one longer. Gilbert almost asked another question to break the tension before Lovino responded. "Cause my family all had better places to be. Why do you travel alone?"

"Cause I left my family behind," Gilbert answered, easily. Lovino shifted in his bed. "Are you lonely?"

"No. Are you?"

"Yes." Lovino stiffened. Gilbert rolled onto his back. "I was never really close with my folks, even before I left. It's hard to miss what you never had, but I miss it anyways."

Quiet stretched between them. Gilbert could hear Lovino's breath slow, to the point that he almost thought him asleep. "Are you cold?" came Lovino's question, whispered so softly Gilbert hardly heard it.

"Yes," Gilbert lied.

He heard the sound of blankets shifting, and when he looked over, Lovino was staring back, his blankets open in a welcome. Neither said anything. Gilbert stood from his nest and shuffled into the already warm bed, pressed himself against Lovino's warm body.

"Fuck!" Lovino shouted, kicking away his feet. "Your feet as cold as balls!"

Gilbert laughed and shoved him back. "That's just because you're too warm. Sorry, Lovi."

Lovino rolled so his back was too Gilbert, his legs pointedly pressed to the wall and away from Gilbert's. "Fuck you," pause, "Gil."

**Author's Note:**

> I realised only afterwards that this would’ve been better from Lovi’s perspective but, eh. Two lonely losers who managed to find each other. Gilbert ends up staying in town and working at the bakery, probably also teaching music lessons or something. Lovino gets to buy a bigger bed. It’s gay. Sorry you didn’t get a kiss.


End file.
